


Behind The Scenes

by a_nonny_moose



Category: Darkine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Dark's been hiding something.





	Behind The Scenes

BANG.  
BANG.  
It was happening again.   
Dark jumped as the door shuddered again, threatening to break under the onslaught of blows. He pressed his back against it, trying desperately to keep it shut. Dammit, I don’t have time for this.  
The rouge Dark on the other side of the door roared. “I want her! I want the goddamn angel!”  
“Too fucking bad,” Dark shot back. He redoubled his efforts, slamming backwards into the door. The broken latch rattled as the rouge stepped back for another hit.  
Dark’s bones felt jarred out of their sockets already. But that was okay. He braced himself for the next hit, desperately hoping that no one would–  
“Dark?”  
Shit. “Yeah, babe?”  
“What the fuck is that?”  
Uhhh… “Tree branches.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.  
There was a moment of silence, and then Dark could practically hear her shrug. “ ‘Kay.” She shifted– he could hear the bed creak– and she was once again asleep.  
The rouge on the other side of the door had momentarily gone silent. Dark had almost forgotten why he was holding this door shut, when–  
BANG.  
BA–  
The door flew open. Dark pitched forward into the carpet, skidding into the deep piles. Carpet burns. Ouch.  
He flipped onto his back just in time to see the rouge burst through the door.  
The rouge jumped on top of him, and Dark immediately felt two experienced hands at his throat. This one was out to kill him.  
And Christine.  
Dark scrabbled at the rouge’s chest. Though strong, he was smaller than Dark. In a matter of seconds, Dark had shoved him off– and into the wall.   
As he coughed, the rouge stood up. He looked over at Dark as he scrambled to his feet.   
“You really want to try to protect her, huh?” With a leer, he walked over until he was in Dark’s face. “You think you can keep her safe?”  
Dark didn’t bother to justify him with a verbal response. In one fluid motion, he’d picked the rouge up by the neck and slammed him against the wall.   
Dark didn’t flinch as the rouge flailed, scratching at his arms, kicking at his ribs while the air slowly drained out of him. He blinked as a harder kick caught his ribs, as he thought he heard something crack.   
A slice of the rouge’s claws caught his forearm, and then he went still. Dark looked down to see a thick black line dripping its way across his wrist, the rouge staring at it, suddenly cowardly, looking paler than any normal Dark would go.  
The rouge looked at him. He croaked, “Plea–”  
Dark dropped him to the floor. “I don’t have time for this shit,” he growled. The rouge looked up again, clearly terrified.   
“Get out. You’re lucky you’re leaving alive.”  
With a shaky nod, the rouge was gone.   
Dark hissed as he shifted, repositioning the ice-pack. Something was definitely broken. Dammit.  
This wasn’t the first time that this had happened. Rouges showed up all the time, looking for Christine or Michael or both. Trying to attack them, kidnap them, or worse.   
Dark dealt with it. The first few times, he’d hesitated. These Darks (or rouges, as he called them– Dark didn’t want to lump himself in with them, and there’d been that one with the tail), weren’t too different than he’d been, not too long ago, and he didn’t really want to hurt them.  
Things had changed.   
Now, there was rarely a rouge that came knocking that walked away unscathed– and few, if any, tried again. There’d been a few fatalities: but Dark honestly felt that they were justified.  
This guy, however, had walked away with far less than what Dark owed him.   
His arm wasn’t that big a deal, now; Dark had been afraid of the claws catching a vein. His ribs were more important– Because damn, that hurt.   
Removing the ice-pack entirely, Dark looked at his stomach. A dark bruise circled his left side. At least it isn’t worse.  
The ribs would heal– with or without angels. A shirt would cover that.  
The only problem now was his arm.   
As much as he loved Christine, Dark was never going to tell her about these late-night escapades. She'd berate him for caring too much, for doing it when she could handle herself. She’d make him stop. And, proud as he was, he wouldn’t let her do that.  
Dark stared at the slash a moment longer. It ran from the crook of his elbow, across the back of his arm, to his wrist. The least damaging place. The black streak stood out against older scars, a stark contrast against the gray skin. Totally noticeable. Fuck.  
Oh well. He’d make an excuse. Cut himself making breakfast, or something. Something believable.  
Dark checked his watch. 4:07am.  
FUCK.  
No point in going back to bed now. Dark slowly slid off the counter, wincing as his feet touched the ground.   
Fuck that guy, seriously. He’d be back, probably, and he wouldn’t walk away. He’d hobble. Or crawl. Dark hadn’t decided yet.  
Dark put the ice pack away and gingerly walked to the living room. He lowered himself onto the couch cushions, already growing annoyed at the dull aching in his left side.   
This was going to be a long few days.  
Several hours later, Dark had fallen asleep. The last credits of the Titanic were rolling, and the sun had risen. Slowly, the shuffling feet of many different entities began to wander towards the living room and kitchen.   
Dubhan, in his and Ciaran’s bedroom, rolled over lazily.   
Morning, Teddy.  
Mmph.  
Hungry?  
Not if I have to get up.  
Get out of bed, there’s coffee in the kitchen.  
No.  
C'mon, babe. I’ll even make it for you.  
Noooo. You’re warm.  
I’m getting up anyway.  
Noooo–  
“OWW– DAMMIT, SASHA!”  
Dubhan froze in the middle of pulling the covers off. Ciaran cautiously poked his head out of the sheets.  
“Is that…”  
“Yeah.” Dubhan padded over to the door and looked out. Down the hallway, he could hear Sasha whining, claws clattering on the floor.  
Further up the hall, Christine and a bed-headed Michael looked out of their respective rooms.  
Dark sat up far too quickly, shoving Sasha off of him. The dog was overly affectionate, even at the best of times. She’d jumped on top of him as he lay on the couch, eagerly sniffing at his face, pawing over his bruised ribs.  
If his rib hadn’t been broken before, it most certainly was now.  
“Dubhan!” His call was strained, gasped around the stabbing pains.  
A patter of feet, a hesitant step. Dubhan stood silently in the doorway. “…Yeah?”  
Dark gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to yell. This wasn’t Dubhan’s fault. “Get your dog off of and away from me."   
Sasha sat on the floor next to him, looking abashed. She’d tried to scoot off at Dark’s first cry of pain, but even that had hurt him.  
"Please,” Dark added, trying to lighten up.  
“Of– of course. Sorry, Dark. I thought she was asleep, in your room,”  
“Yeah, yeah.” Dark sighed as Sasha started to follow Dubhan out of the room.  
“Wait,” Dubhan turned, nearly bumping into Sasha. “Why aren’t you in your room?”  
Dark made an effort to chuckle. He did, however, manage to roll his eyes. “I’m not a kid, I don’t have to be in my room.”  
Seeing Dubhan’s face fall, Dark added, “Titanic was on. Shhh.” He winked, and Dubhan laughed.  
As Sasha’s wagging tail disappeared down the hallway, Dark heard Christine’s footsteps coming towards him. He braced himself. Here come the questions, here it comes, oh no, she’s gonna find out–  
“Hey, Dark.”  
Christine walked towards him, hair still rumpled from sleep, wings held limply at her sides. She sat next to him, running a hand over his upper arm.  
“Hey, Angel.”  
“You sound tired. What’s up?”  
“I’m tired.”  
“'No shit.” She cocked her head at him. “Seriously, what’s up?”  
Uh. “Titanic was on last night.”  
“Right.” She didn’t look like she believed him, but settled back against him. Stretching out one wing, and then the other, she yawned.  
Dark sighed. Maybe she didn’t see it, maybe he’d get away with this, just one more–  
“So, I’m assuming that the Titanic scratched up your arm? Or was it the tree branches?”  
Shit.  
“Tree branches.” Trying to be flippant, he let the words hang in the air, hoping they would be explanation enough. Dark didn’t dare look at Christine– he knew she was doing the eyebrow thing.  
“Uh-huh.”  
She didn’t press the subject further, only reached for his arm. Dark stiffened, but let her take it. Rearranging herself next to him, Christine gently dragged her fingertips across the slash. Once: feeling the raw edges of the wound, the darkened blood, trying to analyze it. Twice: white, warm light against his arm, knitting the edges of his skin together. Planting a soft kiss against his cheek, Christine left him for the kitchen.  
Dark breathed. He heard Ciaran’s and Michael’s voices from the kitchen, Dubhan baby-talking Sasha– everyone was in there. Above him, as Ellie flew downstairs, he heard her singing her morning song.  
They were all safe. All was right in the world.  
A plaintive meow sounded from around Dark’s ankles. He couldn’t bend to stroke Ebony, so he moved his foot to rub her back.   
“Hey, girl. Ready for breakfast?” He could hear Ciaran shaking out the food for her, Ellie, and Sasha.  
Ebony meowed again.  
“Yeah,” Dark lowered his voice, “I know I should tell her. But this is something I gotta do.”  
Ebony cocked her head.   
“You’re as bad as she is,” Dark laughed. He got up slowly, trying not to wince. “C'mon, girl.”  
“No, give me the damn Fruit Loops!"   
Dubhan grabbed Michael’s elbow in an effort to bring the box to a reachable level.  
Michael laughed. He locked his elbow upright, shielding it with a wing. "Nah–”  
A blur of blue shot over Dark’s head and into the kitchen. Ellie gracefully headbutted the box of Fruit Loops, knocking it out of Michael’s hand. Dubhan managed to catch the box before he collapsed to the floor, laughing.  
Ellie landed neatly on Ciaran’s shoulder, looking pleased with herself. Ciaran ran a finger over her head before she flew to her feeder. Ebony brushed past Dark’s leg on the way to her food bowl, slinking under Sasha on the way.  
Yeah, Everything was right in the world.  
Dark crossed over to the far side of the kitchen, trailing a hand against Christine’s folded wing. He reached up for his cereal– before his hands cleared shoulder level, there was a horrible twinge in his side.   
He couldn’t help it. “Ah– Oww.”  
Michael stopped snickering long enough to look concerned. “You okay?” he asked tentatively.  
Dark saw Christine’s suspicious gaze. “Yeah, yeah… Sasha pounced on me this morning, is all. Just sore.”  
“Ah. Okay.” Michael looked at him. “Need any help with, er–” Dark was cautiously clambering onto the counter, “–that?”  
Dark didn’t answer. He’d gotten his box of cornflakes already, but it was too light to be entirely plausible. Dark scooted carefully off the counter, box in hand. He turned to look at Michael, glaring.  
“…Oh.” Michael’s snort was audible.  
Sore, broken ribs most definitely did not help this situation.  
“How many times have I asked you NOT TO DO THAT?”  
“Many.”  
“MICHAEL, FOR FUCKS SAKE.”  
Michael laughed. Dark, who failed to see the humor in this situation, glared at him for a moment more before deciding that he’d had enough.   
Cereal boxes, Dark had learned, were very effective projectiles.  
“Yow!” Michael scrabbled for his glasses, holding up a wing to ward off another attack. “What’s your problem today?”  
Tongue-in-cheek, Michael lobbed the box back as Dark turned around.  
“Fuc– Michael, OW!” Eyes watering, Dark turned as fast as he was able, one hand already wrapped around his left side.  
The kitchen went silent.  
Christine moved faster than anyone in the room. As Michael stared, bug-eyed, she was next to Dark, stripping his shirt off.  
“Christine– ow– no, don’t–” He mumbled, fumbling, through the shirt. He knew it was no use, at this point.  
Bruise clearly visible, Dark stood, shirtless, refusing to look at any of them.   
Christine crossed her arms. “Explain.”  
“I told you,” Dark muttered to the floor. “Sasha jumped on me this mornin–”  
“Bullshit.”  
Dark stayed silent, staring at the floor. One hand held his ribs, and the other hung loosely at his side. Stony-faced, he waited out the silence.  
Sasha retreated to the corner at the sound of her name, whining. Dubhan put a hand on her head to quiet her, never looking away from Dark.  
He swore he could’ve heard a pin drop.  
Christine quietly lifted his hand. Dark flinched away.  
“Stop.” The command in her voice was obvious. “Don’t be an idiot. Lie and say you’re fine, lie and tell me that a goddamn 'tree branch’ did this. But for fuck’s sake–” her voice broke, “–let me heal you.”  
She pressed her hand to his side, frowning as she felt the extent of the injury.   
“Two cracked ribs, four bruised, some small internal bleeding…” Christine looked at him. “Dark…”  
“I know, okay? It was something I had to do.”  
“What? What exactly did you have to do that got you hurt this bad?” A hot flash of light moved through her hands to Dark’s side, repairing his ribs, stemming bleeding. When she lifted her hands, the last of the dark bruise was fading away.  
Dark was silent.  
Ciaran whistled softly to Ellie, and Dubhan tapped his leg for Sasha. Michael gently scooped up Ebony, and the six of them silently left the kitchen. Christine caught Michael’s eye as he left, nodding gratefully.  
“Wait,” Dark said. He lifted his head, and Michael froze uncertainly in the doorway. “Michael, stay. And Ebony, too. You should hear this.”  
Michael moved back in, setting Ebony down. She immediately leaped to the counter, fixing them all with her wide stare. Michael sat in one of the tall bar stools that surrounded the kitchen island, Christine next to him.  
Dark sat next to Ebony, running a hand down her back. She blinked slowly, reassuringly.   
He took a breath and began to speak. “Rouges. They’ve been showing up for months, looking for one or both of you. Wanting to hurt you. I– I’ve been fighting them off as they come.”  
Christine started to interrupt him, but Michael shushed her.  
“Last night…” Dark paused, shaking his head. Ebony meowed encouragingly. “Last night, there was another one. I don’t know who he was, or where he came from. All I knew was that he was after you.  
"He came in through the back door. The latch is broken– I meant to tell you. I heard him banging on it, like a damn tree branch.”  
Christine restrained a smile. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” she whispered, searching his face.  
“I couldn’t.”  
“Wh–”  
“Because you always tell me that you can fucking handle yourself, that I shouldn’t care!” Dark looked her straight in the eye. “And I don’t know if I’m supposed to care, but I sure as hell do!”  
He dropped his head into his hands, and his next words were angrily muffled. “I just… I wanted to know I was helping you. That I can help you.”  
Christine watched him. “You are,” she said softly. “You do.”  
“Well I don’t do much about it, outside of this, do I?”  
Michael was silent– thinking, calculating. “I’ll fix the door,” he finally said. “And see about getting some security stuff in here.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he rose and walked to the door.  
“And Dark?” Michael stopped at the door, rubbing his neck.  
“Yeah?”  
“Thank you.”  
Dark nodded; Michael jerked his head awkwardly, and was gone.  
“I need you to tell me about this stuff,” Christine said quietly.  
Dark began to protest.   
“No– I mean it. Look, anything comes looking for us, Michael and I have a right to know. Agreed?”  
Dark jerked his chin.  
“And if it comes to fighting them off, I don’t want you to have to do it.”  
Dark lifted his head, an unreadable expression on his face.  
“At least, not alone.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Partners, right?”  
“Partners.” Dark leaned forward, taking his hands off of Ebony entirely. He didn’t even hear her meow in protest– Christine understood, and that was all that mattered.  
He hugged her for a long moment, pressed a kiss against her lips– outside, he could hear Ciaran and Dubhan bickering with Michael. It sounded very much as though Ellie and Sasha were singing. And Ebony, behind him, was fastidiously licking her chest clean.  
All was right in the world.


End file.
